


With Every Breath You Take

by Anonymous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcoholism, Dark Harry Potter, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, F/F, F/M, False Identity, Harry Is A Horcrux, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Torture, Isolation, Kidnapping, Loss of Control, Loss of Identity, Loss of Innocence, Memory Alteration, Mentor Severus Snape, Order of the Phoenix - Freeform, Other, Possessive Voldemort (Harry Potter), Psychological Trauma, Under the Influence of Horcruxes, Unforgivable Curses (Harry Potter), Voldemort discovers Harry is a Horcrux, half blood prince, obliviate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:15:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25110748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Everything for the Wizarding World had changed overnight. Voldemort's return had finally been confirmed by the Ministry, and Rose Potter had become known as the Chosen One across Wizarding Britain. The only problem was that the chosen one was now missing at the hands of the Dark Lord.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter & Narcissa Malfoy, Harry Potter & Remus Lupin, Harry Potter & Severus Snape, Harry Potter/Voldemort, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin
Kudos: 43
Collections: Anonymous





	1. stitch by stitch, I tear apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Professor..." Rose managed, her voice trembling in terror as Dumbledore's eyes remained focus on Voldemort, answering her without a glance in her direction,
> 
> "You're going to be fine, Rose."

Rose Potter considered that finally, she might be in hell. That perhaps a killing curse had finally struck her down in her moment of weakness, watching her god-fathers life nearly be torn from him by Bellatrix Le'strange.

Perhaps if she was, her hell would be to deal with the sound of Bellatrix screeching for eternity, screwing her eyes shut against the burning agony in her scar as she clutched desperately onto the cool metal of the statue she was hiding behind.

“No!” Rose didn't dare move, fearing that if she did the pain might finally steal her consciousness, “It isn’t true, you’re lying — MASTER, I TRIED, I TRIED — DO NOT PUNISH ME —”

Regardless, Bellatrix screeching was making it worse, “He can’t hear you from here!”

“Can’t I, Potter?” her eyes opening at once as a high, cold voice spoke, revealing the tall, thin, and black-hooded figure of Lord Voldemort stood before her. His terrible snakelike face white and gaunt and his scarlet, slit-pupilled eyes boring into hers as his wand pointed at her.

“So you smashed my prophecy?” Voldemort asked softly, “No, Bella, she is not lying, I see the truth looking at me from within her mind. Months of preparation, months of effort, and my Death Eaters have let Rose Potter thwart me again. . . .”

“Master, I am sorry, I knew not, I was fighting the Animagus Black!” Bellatrix sobbed, flinging herself down at Voldemort’s feet, “Master, you should know —”

“Be quiet, Bella,” Voldemort commanded. “I shall deal with you in a moment. Do you think I have entered the Ministry of Magic to hear your snivelling apologies?”

“But Master — he is here — he is below —”

Voldemort paid no attention. “I have nothing more to say to you, Potter. You have irked me too often, for too long." Rose didn't move, his wand mere centimetres from her face. It was too late. "AVADA KEDAVRA!”

Rose's mind was blank, her wand still pointing uselessly at the floor as a headless golden statue of the wizard in the fountain sprung alive, leaping from its plinth, and landing on the floor with a crash between them, the spell aimed for her instead glancing off its chest.

“What — ?” Voldemort's scarlet eyes flickering around, “Dumbledore!”

Rose had barely turned to see her headmaster before Voldemort had thrown another jet of green light in Dumbledore's direction, the other statues springing to life as he did. A statue of a witch running at Bellatrix who screamed and desperately sent spells streaming uselessly off its chest before it dived at her, pinning her to the floor. The goblin and the house-elf scuttling toward the fireplaces set along the wall, a one-armed centaur galloping at Voldemort, who vanished and reappeared beside the pool.

The headless statue thrust Rose violently back and away from the fight as Dumbledore advanced on Voldemort, the golden centaur cantering around them both.

“It was foolish to come here tonight, Tom,” Dumbledore spoke calmly, “The Aurors are on their way —”

“By which time I shall be gone, and you dead!” Voldemort spat, sending another Killing Curse at Dumbledore, missing entirely and hitting the security guards desk, sending it bursting into flame as Dumbledore flicked his own wand, the following force of the spell that emanated from it causing her hair stand on end as it passed, forcing Voldemort to conjure a shining silver shield out of thin air to deflect it, releasing a deep noise as they collided.

"You do not seek to kill me, Dumbledore?” Voldemort called, his scarlet eyes narrowing over the top of the shield, “Above such brutality, are you?”

“We both know that there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom,” Dumbledore replied calmly, continuing to walk toward Voldemort as though nothing had happened to interrupt his stroll up the hall, “Merely taking your life would not satisfy me, I admit —”

“There is nothing worse than death, Dumbledore!”

“You are quite wrong,” Rose's headless guard shunting her further back toward the wall as Dumbledore moved calmly, “Indeed, your failure to understand that there are things much worse than death has always been your greatest weakness —”

Another jet of green light flew from behind the silver shield, the one-armed centaur taking the blast and shattering into a hundred pieces. Dumbledore drawing back his wand and waving it as though brandishing a whip as a long thin flame flying from the tip, wrapping itself around Voldemort, shield and all.

For a moment, it seemed Dumbledore had won, but then the fiery rope became a serpent, relinquishing its hold upon Voldemort and turning, hissing furiously, to face Dumbledore as Voldemort vanished, the snake rearing from the floor, ready to strike, a burst of flame in midair above Dumbledore as Voldemort reappeared, standing on the plinth in the middle of the pool where so recently the five statues had stood, 

“Look out!” Rose's voice hardly leaving her as one more jet of green light flew at Dumbledore from Voldemort’s wand.

The snake struck as Fawkes swooped down in front of Dumbledore, opening his beak wide, and swallowing the jet of green light whole, bursting into flame and falling to the floor, small, wrinkled, and flightless. Dumbledore brandishing his wand against the snake now an instant from sinking its fangs into him, making it fly high into the air and vanish in a wisp of dark smoke, the water in the pool rising up and covering Voldemort like a cocoon of molten glass.

For a few seconds, Voldemort was visible only as a dark, rippling, faceless figure, shimmering and indistinct upon the plinth, struggling to throw off the suffocating mass before suddenly disappearing, the water falling with a crash back into its pool as he did, slopping wildly over the sides and drenching the polished floor.

“MASTER!” Bellatrix screeched. It seemed that both her and Rose were sure that it was over, that Voldemort had decided to flee. Taking the opportunity to run out from behind her statue guard, Dumbledore bellowing out, 

“Stay where you are, Rose!”

Dumbledore's frightened voice set her on edge. Freezing in her place and rapidly scanning their surroundings for danger. Bellatrix was still trapped under her statue and sobbing, and tiny baby Fawkes was croaking feebly on the floor. Turning to meet Dumbledore's blue eyes as her scar split open, her body falling as she was certain that this was it. She was dying, she couldn't survive this pain past endurance, something no matter how hard she writhed she couldn't tear-free from.

Rose's jaw moved, and she was sure she was screaming, her nails curling into the flesh of her palm, trying to tear herself from the creature. A beg running through her mind like a mantra, _I don't want to die, I don't want to-_

The pain vanished as quickly as it had come, gasping against the floor, pain rippling across her form, watching helplessly as a blurred figure appeared in front of her. Hoping for a moment that it was Dumbledore, even the Dursley's, anyone else but-

"I see why you've kept her alive for so long." Voldemort. His voice was so soft that it grated in her eardrums as she began desperately trying to pick herself from the floor, to move away from the man, "She is truly special."

If Dumbledore sounded frightened earlier, he was now near begging from terror, "Tom..." struggling to raise her head and find the man with no twinkle left in his eyes, his wand aimed firmly at Voldemort,

"Professor..." Rose managed, her voice trembling in terror as Dumbledore's eyes remained focus on Voldemort, answering her without a glance in her direction,

"You're going to be fine, Rose."

"I'm not so sure." Voldemort answered, the smile on his face evident in his voice, "Afterall, _professor_ , since you're so...insistent, that there are other ways of destroying a man..." Voldemort's face turned a little toward her now, and Rose felt as though her lungs were stuck in his grip, squeezing impossibly tight, "Let me see if this destroys you."

Dumbledore had opened his mouth to speak, to find some form of a spell, but Voldemort was faster, his wand rounding onto her as the words left his lips, 

"Obliviate."

A stream of red flew toward him as he said this, deflected by a shield forming around them, her killing curse green eyes raising to see the spell haphazardly bouncing back across the room and colliding with a wooden desk sending it exploding into hundreds of fragments. Her trembling hand raising up to tenderly press against the scar on her forehead.

"Rose..." her name was soft coming from Dumbledore's voice, the man lowering himself as though to see through her eyes, to find any hint or trace of recognition. Praying silently that the curse had failed, that Rose Potter was still before them. Her eyes flickering away from his to look to Voldemort for a moment who seemed happy to patiently wait for any sign of his success.

Her lips had parted to say something when the Artium began to fill with people, her attention captured by the stream of witches and wizards and barely hearing Dumbledore's voice as a hand coiled around her upper arm, a sharp pull of apparition taking over her entire body.


	2. sinking, so sick of thinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know about the plan?” Bellatrix asked, her fleeting expression of satisfaction replaced by a look of outrage. “You know?”

“Severus, I know I ought not to be here, I have been told to say nothing to anyone, but —”

“Then you ought to hold your tongue! Particularly in the present company!”

“Present company’?” Snape repeated sardonically, eyes flickering between the two Black sisters and wondering what he had done in life to deserve this intrusion into his home, “And what am I to understand by that, Bellatrix?”

“That I don’t trust you, Snape, as you very well know!” Narcissa letting out a noise that might have been a dry sob as she covered her face with her hands, leaving Snape to set his glass down upon the table and sit back again, resting his hands upon the arms of his chair and smiling into Bellatrix’s glowering face.

“Narcissa, I think we ought to hear what Bellatrix is bursting to say; it will save tedious interruptions. Well, continue, Bellatrix, why is it that you do not trust me?”

“A hundred reasons!” Bellatrix's voice loud as ever, striding out from behind the sofa to slam her glass upon the table. “Where to start! Where were you when the Dark Lord fell? Why did you never make any attempt to find him when he vanished? What have you been doing all these years that you’ve lived in Dumbledore’s pocket? Why did you stop the Dark Lord procuring the Sorcerer’s Stone? Why did you not return at once when the Dark Lord was reborn? Where were you a few weeks ago when we battled to retrieve the prophecy for the Dark Lord? And why, Snape, was Rose Potter still alive when you have had her at your mercy for five years?” her chest rose and fell rapidly, colour high in her cheeks as Narcissa sat motionlessly, face still hidden in her hands. 

“Before I answer you — oh yes, Bellatrix, I am going to answer! You can carry my words back to the others who whisper behind my back, and carry false tales of my treachery to the Dark Lord! Before I answer you, I say, let me ask a question in turn. Do you really think that the Dark Lord has not asked me each and every one of those questions? And do you really think that, had I not been able to give satisfactory answers, I would be sitting here talking to you?”

“I know he believes you, but . . .”

“You think he is mistaken? Or that I have somehow hoodwinked him? Fooled the Dark Lord, the greatest wizard, the most accomplished Legilimens the world has ever seen?” Bellatrix said nothing to this, but looked, for the first time, a little discomfited as Snape did not press the point, calmly instead picking up his drink again, sipping it, and continuing,

“You ask where I was when the Dark Lord fell. I was where he had ordered me to be, at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, because he wished me to spy upon Albus Dumbledore. You know, I presume, that it was on the Dark Lord’s orders that I took up the post?” She nodded almost imperceptibly and then opened her mouth, but Snape forestalled her.

“You ask why I did not attempt to find him when he vanished. For the same reason that Avery, Yaxley, the Carrows, Greyback, Lucius” — inclining his head slightly to Narcissa — “and many others did not attempt to find him. I believed him finished. I am not proud of it, I was wrong, but there it is. If he had not forgiven we who lost faith at that time, he would have very few followers left.”

“He’d have me!” Bellatrix snapped passionately, “I, who spent many years in Azkaban for him!”

“Yes, indeed, most admirable,” Snape replied in a bored voice, “Of course, you weren’t a lot of use to him in prison, but the gesture was undoubtedly fine —”

“Gesture!” Bellatrix shrieked, “While I endured the dementors, you remained at Hogwarts, comfortably playing Dumbledore’s pet!”

“Not quite,” Snape replied, “He wouldn’t give me the Defense Against the Dark Arts job, you know. Seemed to think it might, ah, bring about a relapse...tempt me into my old ways.”

“This was your sacrifice for the Dark Lord, not to teach your favourite subject?” Bellatrix's voice jeering, “Why did you stay there all that time, Snape? Still spying on Dumbledore for a master you believed dead?”

“Hardly,” Snape replied, “although the Dark Lord is pleased that I never deserted my post: I had sixteen years of information on Dumbledore to give him when he returned, a rather more useful welcome-back present than endless reminiscences of how unpleasant Azkaban is. . . .”

“But you stayed —”

“Yes, Bellatrix, I stayed,” Snape finally betraying a hint of impatience for the first time, “I had a comfortable job that I preferred to a stint in Azkaban. They were rounding up the Death Eaters, you know. Dumbledore’s protection kept me out of jail; it was most convenient and I used it. I repeat: The Dark Lord does not complain that I stayed, so I do not see why you do."

“I think you next wanted to know,” he pressed on, a little more loudly, for Bellatrix showed every sign of interrupting, “why I stood between the Dark Lord and the Sorcerer’s Stone. That is easily answered. He did not know whether he could trust me. He thought, like you, that I had turned from faithful Death Eater to Dumbledore’s stooge. He was in a pitiable condition, very weak, sharing the body of a mediocre wizard. He did not dare reveal himself to a former ally if that ally might turn him over to Dumbledore or the Ministry. I deeply regret that he did not trust me. He would have returned to power three years sooner. As it was, I saw only greedy and unworthy Quirrell attempting to steal the stone and, I admit, I did all I could to thwart him.” Bellatrix’s mouth twisted as though she had taken an unpleasant dose of medicine.

“But you didn’t return when he came back, you didn’t fly back to him at once when you felt the Dark Mark burn —”

“Correct. I returned two hours later. I returned on Dumbledore’s orders.”

“On Dumbledore’s — ?” Bellatrix began, in tones of outrage.

“Think!” Snape was impatient again, “Think! By waiting two hours, just two hours, I ensured that I could remain at Hogwarts as a spy! By allowing Dumbledore to think that I was only returning to the Dark Lord’s side because I was ordered to, I have been able to pass information on Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix ever since! Consider, Bellatrix: The Dark Mark had been growing stronger for months. I knew he must be about to return, all the Death Eaters knew! I had plenty of time to think about what I wanted to do, to plan my next move, to escape like Karkaroff, didn’t I?"

“The Dark Lord’s initial displeasure at my lateness vanished entirely, I assure you when I explained that I remained faithful, although Dumbledore thought I was his man. Yes, the Dark Lord thought that I had left him forever, but he was wrong.”

“But what use have you been?” Bellatrix sneered, “What useful information have we had from you?”

“My information has been conveyed directly to the Dark Lord if he chooses not to share it with you —”

“He shares everything with me!” Bellatrix fired up at once, “He calls me his most loyal, his most faithful —”

“Does he? Does he still, after the fiasco at the Ministry?”

“That was not my fault!” Bellatrix flushing now, “The Dark Lord has, in the past, entrusted me with his most precious — if Lucius hadn’t —”

“Don’t you dare — don’t you dare blame my husband!” Narcissa snarled, in a low and deadly voice, now looking up at her sister.

“There is no point apportioning blame,” Snape replied smoothly, “What is done, is done.”

“But not by you! No, you were once again absent while the rest of us ran dangers, were you not, Snape?”

“My orders were to remain behind, perhaps you disagree with the Dark Lord, perhaps you think that Dumbledore would not have noticed if I had joined forces with the Death Eaters to fight the Order of the Phoenix? And — forgive me — you speak of dangers . . . you were facing six teenagers, were you not?”

“They were joined, as you very well know, by half of the Order before long! and, while we are on the subject of the Order, you still claim you cannot reveal the whereabouts of their headquarters, don’t you?”

“I am not the Secret-Keeper; I cannot speak the name of the place. You understand how the enchantment works, I think? The Dark Lord is satisfied with the information I have passed him on the Order. It led, as perhaps you have guessed, to the recent capture and murder of Emmeline Vance."

Bellatrix bristled, running out of points to make, “You are avoiding my last question, Snape. _Rose Potter_. You could have killed her at any point in the past five years. You have not done it. Why?”

“Have you discussed this matter with the Dark Lord?”

“He . . . lately, we . . . I am asking you, Snape!”

“If I had murdered Rose Potter, the Dark Lord could not have used her blood to regenerate, making him invincible —”

“You claim you foresaw his use of the girl!”

“I do not claim it; I had no idea of his plans; I have already confessed that I thought the Dark Lord dead. I am merely trying to explain why the Dark Lord is not sorry that Potter survived, at least until a year ago...”

“But why did you keep her alive?”

“Have you not understood me? It was only Dumbledore’s protection that was keeping me out of Azkaban! Do you disagree that murdering his favourite student might have turned him against me?"

"But there was more to it than that. I should remind you that when Potter first arrived at Hogwarts there were still many stories circulating about her, rumours that she herself was a great Dark wizard, which was how she had survived the Dark Lord’s attack." Bellatrix's sneer increased at this, "Indeed, many of the Dark Lord’s old followers thought Potter might be a standard around which we could all rally once more. I was curious, I admit it, and not at all inclined to murder her the moment she set foot in the castle."

“Of course, it became apparent to me very quickly that she had no extraordinary talent at all. She had fought her way out of a number of tight corners by a simple combination of sheer luck and more talented friends. She is mediocre to the last degree, though as obnoxious and self-satisfied as was her father before her. I have done my utmost to have her thrown out of Hogwarts, where I believe she scarcely belongs, but kill her, or allow her to be killed in front of me? I would have been a fool to risk it with Dumbledore close at hand.”

"You should've, if you had, I wouldn't be-" gasping as though catching herself on the verge of revealing a great secret, flushing with rage and continuing, "Besides, through all this are we are supposed to believe Dumbledore has never suspected you? He has no idea of your true allegiance, he trusts you implicitly still?”

“I have played my part well,” Snape answered, “And you overlook Dumbledore’s greatest weakness: He has to believe the best of people. I spun him a tale of deepest remorse when I joined his staff, fresh from my Death Eater days, and he embraced me with open arms — though, as I say, never allowing me nearer the Dark Arts than he could help. Dumbledore has been a great wizard —" Bellatrix making a scathing noise, " -oh yes, he has, the Dark Lord acknowledges it. I am pleased to say, however, that Dumbledore is growing old."

"The duel with the Dark Lord last month shook him. He has since sustained a serious injury because his reactions are slower than they once were. But through all these years, he has never stopped trusting Severus Snape, and therein lies my great value to the Dark Lord.” Bellatrix still looked unhappy, though she now appeared unsure how best to attack Snape next, Snape, taking advantage of this, now turned to her sister.

“Now, you came to ask me for help, Narcissa?” Narcissa looked up at him, her face eloquent with despair.

“Yes, Severus. I — I think you are the only one who can help me, I have nowhere else to turn. Lucius is in jail and...” closing her eyes as two large tears seeped from beneath her eyelids, “The Dark Lord has forbidden me to speak of it,” Narcissa continued, her eyes still closed, “He wishes none to know of the plan. It is . . . very secret. But —”

“If he has forbidden it, you ought not to speak,” Snape replied at once, “The Dark Lord’s word is law.” Narcissa gasping as though he had doused her with cold water, Bellatrix looking satisfied for the first time since she had entered the house.

“There!” her voice triumphant, “Even Snape says so: You were told not to talk, so hold your silence!”

Snape had gotten to his feet and strode to the small window as Bellatrix spoke, peering through the curtains at the deserted street, before closing them again with a jerk and turning around to face Narcissa, frowning,

“It so happens that I know of the plan,” his voice low, “I am one of the few the Dark Lord has told. Nevertheless, had I not been in on the secret, Narcissa, you would have been guilty of great treachery to the Dark Lord.”

“I thought you must know about it!” Narcissa whispered, breathing more freely. “He trusts you so, Severus...”

“You know about the plan?” Bellatrix asked, her fleeting expression of satisfaction replaced by a look of outrage. “You know?”

“Certainly,”

"Potter knows, you know-" Bellatrix sneering, "He trusts so...!" cutting herself off with a loud noise of rage, Snape calmly gazing back to her,

" _Potter_ knows?"

"Of course she does, she's always at his side!"

"I have not noticed it."

This was the truth, Snape had been called by Voldemort many times, yet none of those instances had he seen Potter. In fact, he hadn't seen Potter since she was in Umbridge's office, spouting nonsense to him. Turning to pretend indifference as he continued to Narcissa, making a mental note to mention this to Dumbledore later on, “But what help do you require, Narcissa? If you are imagining I can persuade the Dark Lord to change his mind, I am afraid there is no hope, none at all.”


End file.
